An Uncertain Acceptance
by girl from the lake cottage
Summary: Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy adjust to life after the Wardrobe... note: Nearly a full year later, this story is complete! Thank you all for your support!
1. Peter

_I don't know about this, but I am going to try to delve a little bit into how the Pevensies might have felt adjusting to life back in England after their first Narnian adventure. Because fifteen years is a long time to be gone. Others have made much nobler offerings of this sort, but here I try to do my part. All characters belong to C. S. Lewis, a man of great wisdom - for he knew who the Voice belonged to._

* * *

Therefore let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken…

_**Hebrews 12:28a**_

Peter Pevensie stood in the doorway of his bedroom, suitcases in hand. He hadn't seen his room in Finchley for three months, but it seemed like it might as well have been a lifetime. He smiled ruefully to himself and shook his head. It _had_ been a lifetime, hadn't it? Picking up his bags, the boy walked over and placed them on his bed before turning to open the window above his desk. A warm August breeze blew through the room, carrying a faint smell of smoke along with it. Peter sighed. Though the Pevensie home had come through the air raids unscathed, much of London carried deep wounds from the war. No matter where you went, you couldn't escape it, not even at the Kirke country house miles from the city, where he and his siblings would cluster around the wireless to catch news of the first attacks on London. The Professor said that he suspected the attacks would only grow worse over the coming months, and that it was a good thing that the four Pevensies would only be in London for a few weeks before heading off to their respective schools. Even Lucy, who wasn't quite old enough to leave home yet, would be going to stay with their mum at an elderly relative's house. London just wasn't home anymore.

Peter sat down at his desk, glancing briefly at the pile of school books stacked to one side. Then he gave them another look and laughed to himself. At the end of last term when he had gotten the fall book list the texts had seemed huge. Now, however, they looked tiny in comparison to the giant volumes of military strategy and conduct he and Ed had poured over hours on end in the library of Cair Paravel. Peter ran his hands absentmindedly across the top of his desk, a motion that had become habit after years of chronicling each and every military action he took. Lucy found him in his study on more than one occasion gazing off into space, pen laid aside, one hand moving across the smooth wood of his desk. She always told him it looked as though he was playing an invisible instrument. And he supposed he was, in a way. Playing the instrument of his thoughts, because even though Edmund was hailed as the pensive, thoughtful king, Peter too relished his time alone.

Like now. In England, it seemed as though he was always surrounded by people. At least when he was still called Magnificent he could ask to be left alone and his subjects would understand the needs of their king. But the past three months he felt smothered constantly. Susan and Edmund and Lucy knew him well enough to give him privacy often, but people who would come and visit the Professor just couldn't leave him alone, always asking questions about his family and his home and his plans for school and any other number of pointless information. And now Mum just couldn't stop asking questions about their summer and telling him how grown up he was and saying that no one would be able to recognize him anymore, especially Harold and Alberta and Eustace. Mum didn't understand that he didn't _care_, how after organizing great military forces and negotiating difficult treaties with foreign nations, comparing himself to his cousin just didn't really matter anymore.

Peter blinked, trying to clear his head. Gazing out of the window, he stared at a sparrow sitting on a high branch of the tree outside. A sparrow that would never be able to converse with him quite the same way the Narnian birds could. Fifteen years, and Peter had never really gotten over the shock of having a bird fly through the window, land on the bedpost, and begin a long discourse on the habits of the Northern giants. But even now that he was back in England, he still half-expected the little sparrow to speak, to start chattering away about the mess roads had become since the spring or some other such nonsense. But it didn't happen, of course.

Fifteen years. Peter rubbed his eyes, suddenly tired. Going from twenty eight to thirteen in a few short seconds could take a lot out of a person. But it left a lot there, too. You can't erase fifteen years of living, no matter how much of a dream those years seem to be. Fifteen years of wars won and wars lost, of friendships made and vows taken. Fifteen years of growing up, of ruling a nation. And now he would have to grow up all over again. He didn't mind, not really, about growing up again. At least not as much as Su did. After all, growing up happened in every world, no matter if you are a king or a schoolboy. And having gone through it once, he could most certainly do it again. But what he did mind, what did cause him to lose sleep at night and become unable to concentrate at the most inopportune times, was the fact that so much was left behind.

Not the individual people, not his subjects. He cared for them, but he hoped that whoever would rule after him would be able to care for them in the same way. And it wasn't even Aslan, strangely enough. For some strange reason Peter had a feeling that Aslan hadn't really deserted them, that someday on the way to the train station or in the back shelves of the library or even just while sitting at his desk, like now, he would hear that Voice just behind him, calling him back. He had an inkling that Aslan was able to be found in more than one world. In fact, he was rather sure of it. No, it was the _kingdom_ that weighed on Peter, the kingdom that he felt he had failed by leaving. The land, from Cauldron Pool in the West to Glasswater Creek in the East, Ettinsmoor to Mount Pire, even Galma and the Lone Islands. The people as a whole, those who had relied on him, trusted him from the beginning. Those late nights with Ed, discussing how to best word a letter of support to Rabadash once he changed back into a man, dancing with Lucy at her annual birthday balls, helping Susan decline the endless marriage proposals she received. Riding his mount down to Anvard to consult with King Lune on matters of state. In short, he missed being a _king_.

He had tried to talk with Ed about it, but the problem with the new-and-improved Edmund was that while he had become a far better listener, he would ponder his thoughts for a very, very long time before offering any advice. And as far as Peter knew, Ed was still pondering this one, trying to sort out his own feelings as well as those of his siblings. Susan, when approached with the subject, would give a wistful smile and say dreamily, "Why, Peter! Of course I wish I was still a queen – all of those lovely gowns and dances and men always running after me…" It took a great deal of restraint for Peter to not retort, "All of those men who were about to wage war on us, don't you mean!" He did not quite understand Su's view, but when had he ever? Lucy was his best bet on commiseration, but she had cared most for each subject individually and was not quite at the same level of despair. When they had first gotten back, Lu had checked every closet, every door, every cupboard she laid eye on to see if she could somehow return to her beloved friends, but when met with defeat, she simply looked at Peter with shining eyes and said, "I know we'll go back someday. I just know it!" And while Peter wished he had the faith of Lucy, it just did not make sense to him that they should be taken away from that which they loved.

"Peter?" He turned, noting that the sun had begun to set outside and that the sparrow had gone. He shook his head as if to clear it of all thoughts, any thoughts. He wasn't in Narnia anymore. Time to think about England.

"Yes, Lu?" She had entered the room quietly, like she used to do at the castle.

"I think I know now. Why we couldn't stay." The little girl who had so recently been over twenty had a small stuffed bear in her grasp. She was smiling.

Peter knelt down next to her, giving Lucy a little, sad smile. "Why? Why do you think we are here instead of there?"

The eight year old gave her big brother a look of understanding. "Because we don't _need_ to be there, Peter. Narnia needed us to sit on the thrones, but we did our part. We know our story, as Aslan would say, but only ours. Not that of our kingdom, not that of the future. Ours. And our story is here now. Now, Peter. We need to be here."

It wasn't really a concrete explanation, Peter thought to himself as Lucy gave him a hug. There was no grand statement of why or how or if. But with Lucy's words, his heart changed just a little. It was as if he had finally come to the point of acceptance, of knowing that there might not be a going back. Instead, there was an immense sense of joy. Of thankfulness.

Of knowing that he had done all he could for a kingdom that he loved.


	2. Susan

_People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own… they were longing for a better country._

_**Hebrews 11:14, 16a**_

Susan Pevensie had always been known as a gracious girl. "What a lovely daughter you have!" was the most common phrase she heard from her parents' many acquaintances whenever her mother pulled her into the parlor to be introduced. She would smile and sit prettily on the chair in the corner, daintily sipping a cup of hot chocolate while Mum poured tea for the guests. Yes, she had always been very mature, very grown-up for a twelve year old. And when they had been sent into the countryside for the summer, she had taken over the role of mother, always making sure that her siblings were clothed and fed and not arguing over something silly. But now she was home, and as Susan placed her suitcases in her closet, she couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Finchley was so… safe, thank goodness.

Well, maybe not quite safe, she thought as the house shook and rumbles from the distant shelling could be heard. But comfortable. Yes, comfortable was the right word. Glancing over to Lucy's side of their shared bedroom, Susan smiled at the sight of the contents of Lucy's suitcase strewn all over her bed, and Lu nowhere in sight. It was a good thing that Su was used to straightening up her sister's side of the room, and didn't mind doing it either. Orderly was good. Neat was good. Control was good. And it felt good to be in control.

She picked up a dress of Lucy's that had fallen slightly under the bed, then a stuffed rabbit, then a storybook of King Arthur. Hanging the dress up in Lu's closet and placing the rabbit on the windowsill, Susan was about to place the book on her sister's bookcase when she paused, looking at the cover. Then she shook her head and laughed at herself. To think that she had actually thought that the young King Arthur resembled Peter! The sun was shining through the window, and had glinted off of the mythical ruler's crown, making it appear to glisten. His sword, too, looked like Peter's blade. Susan groaned, forcing herself to put the book down. How could she be giving into her imagination like that? England wasn't Narnia, and it never would be. There would be no going back.

It wasn't as if she hadn't tried. Peter and Ed thought that Lucy was the only one who walked the halls of the Kirke house in the middle of the night, knocking on the backs of closets and wardrobes. But Susan had too. Pushing back coats, squeezing into tight places, even climbing the rickety stairs up to the attic… all ending in failure. There were nights when she would cry herself to sleep at night, closing her eyes and hoping it was all just a dream; that she would wake up back in her chamber in Cair Paravel, twenty seven again. Because growing up was hard, but it was easier when you were a queen. A beautiful queen at that. But she was no longer a queen, and she was no longer beautiful, and she had to grow up all over again.

Her mother didn't make things easier. Since they had returned from the Professor's, all Mum could talk about was how Peter had done such a fine job of taking care of his younger siblings, how Peter was looking so much like their father, how Peter was growing up so fast. Susan knew she was being unfair, but she felt as though no one really cared anymore. Since she was no longer beautiful or in her twenties, kings no longer sought her hand in marriage. Since she was no longer a queen, there were no balls to host or exotic realms to visit. And since she had a mother again, she no longer held the same authority over her siblings she had before. For goodness sake, she had to go to school in a few weeks! School, for Queen Susan the Gentle – it was unthinkable.

Susan sat down on her sister's bed, blinking back unwanted tears. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't! There was no use crying over what couldn't be, and Narnia couldn't be anymore. She was almost sick of the way Peter would always bring up the subject. He always rambled on about how wonderful it had been to be a king – as if she needed a reminder! At least Ed was quiet, thoughtful. He didn't go on and on about their lost lives. But the change in him was unsettling. It was a reminder that something had happened, that it wasn't just a dream or some silly game they had made up. It was real. She had lived for fifteen years in a place where animals talked and stars sang and a crown was upon her head. Lucy had made her a crown less than a month after their return to England, a crown made out of some pieces of wire Lu had found somewhere in that maze of a house. "Here, Su, try this on. Doesn't it remind you of…?" Lucy had laughed. But Susan knew that nothing could replace the feeling of her real crown, the one that had been placed on her head so many years ago. A lifetime ago. No matter what Lucy said, they weren't supposed to be back.

If only her siblings would have listened to her when she tried to dissuade them from investigating the lamppost. Then she wouldn't be cleaning up after her sister, wouldn't be crying, wouldn't have to worry about Dad or school or how the girls she used to be friends with would react to what the neighbors called "Susan's snobbishness". Instead she could be visiting Aravis at Anvard, or shooting archery out at the range with Lucy, or even searching for the one man whom she would not decline, whose hand she would graciously accept. It's hard to be gracious when you have to get used to eating porridge and fish and chips, or wearing scratchy wool skirts, or remembering that you are younger than everyone. Going from queen to schoolgirl is not an easy transformation in the least.

Her head ached, so Susan tried stretching out on Lucy's bed. There wouldn't be any of Mrs. Badger's tea to calm her nerves, no laughing dryads to lift her spirits. Just the sounds of war in the distance, and the imminence of the next school term, and the fact that they weren't even anywhere near the wardrobe, so how on earth could they get back?

Closing her eyes, she tried to picture the castle, tried to walk through its rooms and courtyards and gardens. But all she could see was the Lion, pacing back and forth on the beach below the towers of Cair Paravel. And the last thing Susan wanted to think about was Aslan, because wasn't it His fault that they had been returned? After all, only Aslan had the power to make the portals between this world and that passable. So she refused to dwell on Aslan, no matter how much Lucy begged her to speak of Him.

"Su? Are you alright?"

Susan opened her eyes and sat up, seeing Edmund standing in the doorway. "Yes, yes," she said quickly, wiping at her face, "I'm fine. Just cleaning up after Lucy."

Ed came into the room a few steps, and then stopped to look at his sister. The ten year old wore the probing look that had often crossed his face when deliberating over some complex battle tactic. "You know, we all miss it too," he said quietly.

Susan looked up at him, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Wh-what do you mean?" she asked, trying to calm her voice.

Ed sat down next to her on Lucy's bed. "Peter misses being king so much, Susan. Lucy wants so badly to see Tumnus and the Beavers again. I don't know what I am going to do without Aslan as my guide. And you can't hide what's in your eyes, the loss. But we all have each other. And our story is just beginning, Su. I can feel it." He awkwardly placed an arm around her shoulders, and for a moment she didn't push him away. But then she rose to her feet and headed towards the door.

"You know what, Ed? It might be best if we just don't talk about Narnia at all."

Because how else could she survive in this world if just behind a doorway there stands a better one that can't be reached?

* * *

_Note: I don't want this story to come across as saying that Susan was pulling away from Narnia immediately after leaving it, but I think that she would probably have been the most angry sibling over their departure. I hope that the verse at the beginning is an indication that, though she may not admit it to herself in her anger, Susan felt the pull towards Narnia and Aslan just as strongly as her siblings..._


	3. Edmund

_I thought that this chapter would be easier, seeing as how Edmund has slowly become one of my favorite characters. But it wasn't. It was downright horrible at times. Ed is very complex, I have found - he carries so much, learns so much, feels so much... That being said, I think that he probably would have had a slightly easier adjustment to returning to England than his siblings (I might be wrong), but that doesn't mean that his emotions are any less turbulent or weighted. So here, yet again, is my humble tribute to a monarch of Narnia, brought into being by the writings of C. S. Lewis._

_One more thing - thank you to my reviewers! You have inspired me and encouraged me to continue forward, and I hope that you never cease to do so in all you do!_

* * *

_Now we see but a poor reflection, as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known._

_**1 Corinthians 13:12**_

Edmund Pevensie couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes as his sister exited her room, leaving him sitting on their sister's bed. The old Ed could still rear his ugly head, even after fifteen years of living as one redeemed, and often came out when he was frustrated with those around him. And Susan was always so frustrating! Just because she was two years older didn't mean that she could treat him like such a child, even if he did look like one. _Stop it_, Edmund mentally reprimanded himself. _You know how hard this has been for everyone, so leave Susan alone. _Apparently that's what she wanted, anyway, the old Ed whispered. _Stuff it_, the reformed Ed thought to himself. Just what he needed, having arguing voices inside of his head. As if he needed one more thing to think about!

The ten year old rose, putting the deserted book on Arthur on Lucy's shelf before heading downstairs to his own bedroom at the back of the house. When Mum had surprised him with his own bedroom upon their return from the Professor's, he had stared at her in shock for a moment. "Oh, it was nothing, dear," their mother had said with a small smile. "I think you and Peter deserve to have your own privacy now, and it was easy to move the old furniture out of the room. I'm afraid that all of your grandfather's books are still there. They wouldn't really fit in our parlor, would they?" What she didn't quite understand was that Ed's shock had come from the realization that he had in fact shared a room with Peter in the first place. The Kirke house was large enough for each sibling to have their own room, and of course at Cair Paravel each monarch had an entire suite of rooms, so it had entirely slipped his mind that he and Peter would share a room once they returned to Finchley. He was grateful, though, that his mother had given him the library for his own bedroom. It reminded him of his chambers in the castle, for though there was no view of the Western forest and distant mountains out of his window, the walls lined with books were similar to the ones he had installed in the latter years of his reign.

They comforted him, the volumes ranging from geography to physics, theology to history. Grandfather Pevensie had been a scholar, a slightly well-known Oxford professor who taught medieval history and languages for over forty years until his death. Ed had a feeling that he would have gotten on wonderfully with his grandfather, but Daniel Pevensie had died before Ed was born. Dad always said that his father loved to discuss judicial law, and Edmund had a slight feeling that he knew where the "Just King" leanings fit into the family tree.

Sitting on his bed, Ed looked down at his suitcase lying open on the floor. It was filled with books. He hadn't pack much clothing at the beginning of the summer, his own sort of rebellion against the whole relocation concept, but for the return trip the empty space left room for the books that Professor Kirke said "might help you out at home". Looking at the titles, they ranged from _Stone's Classic Work on Arms and Armor _to _Bouvier's Law Dictionary and Concise Encyclopedia_. When Peter saw what was weighing down Ed's luggage, all he said was "Just make sure that Mum doesn't find you reading those. Maybe under the bed?" And Edmund knew that his brother was right. What ten year old boy could even read the words on some of those pages, _affidavit_ or _mandamus_ or _Voir Dire_, much less understand what they were talking about?

But he did understand. Not just the legal language or technical wording found in his law books, but much, much more than that. He understood what had happened at the beginning. He understood more than his siblings suspected, because the truth couldn't be hidden forever. That was what _Voir Dire_ was all about, and it was how Edmund had determined to live his life. "To speak the truth". When he had first found out about the Stone Table and all it encompassed, he had been staggered by the raw emotion he felt. Susan and Lucy had been acting strange ever since the Battle of Beruna ended, always giving him strange glances when Aslan was around, glances which he thought meant "you'd better be grateful you're still alive, brother of ours". It was weeks after the coronation, only after he closeted himself away with Tumnus for a few hours, that the tale of Aslan's sacrifice was revealed to the young Duke of Lantern Waste. When the somber-faced young king was seen riding away on his horse later that day, everyone thought that he was going to survey the lands of which he held charge. But it was the Stone Table he sought out that day, and the Lion who had died there who filled his thoughts for the following years.

Ed blinked quickly, smiling a little as a tear ran down his cheek. The old Ed would be quick to wipe the moisture away, quick to hide his feelings, but it was not the old Ed who sat in his library-bedroom in Finchley, even if the old Ed did have a nasty habit of showing up every so often. Everyone had always assumed that it was Edmund's own experiences that cold winter that had changed the imprudent young boy into the noble king he became. Being held captive by an evil witch can do that sort of thing to you, Ed supposed, but it was not the reason for his altered persona. The transformation was all due to the gaze a Lion bestowed when a young boy with a crown in his hands fell before Him.

It had been a rather startling moment when Edmund turned from staring at the broken stone slab to find the High King above all Kings gazing at him with that indescribable look. Years later, Ed had tried to describe that look to Lucy, hoping she would understand his muddled descriptors like "tender" and "fierce", but all she did was smile gently and say, "You know, Ed, that I could never really know how you feel about it." And she was right. It was incomprehensible, and wonderful, and impossible to understand, but most importantly it was _real_. He knew that, if nothing else. The firm reality of the eyes of the Lion changed everything. He was no longer simply King Edmund the Just, once traitor of Narnia. Instead, miraculously, he was simply and gloriously Edmund, rescued by the death of the Lord of Narnia and saved by His Life. It was a realization of what slavery and freedom can mean, of what living can become, and what Deeper magic always had been.

Now, back in England, the intensity of that Gaze had not dimmed. No matter what Susan said, Edmund knew that there would be no return to the life they had lived before that summer. Something marvelous had happened, that maybe no one else would ever believe. But the truth, the _voire_ radiated outward, seeping into all that he saw and all that he did. Yes, the old Ed still clawed its way upward at times, and he had a feeling that it always would, but that did not mean that the new Ed would be diminished. The Edmund that had failed, that had been pardoned, that had reigned, that had learned, that had found truth… it was _that_ Edmund that would prevail.

"Thinking deep thoughts are we, brother?" came a voice from the doorway.

"Yes, my liege. Deeper thoughts than can be explained," replied the younger brother to the elder, lapsing easily into their old way of speech. Peter sat down next to Edmund, and shook his head at the suitcase on the floor.

"You know, Ed, that Mum had better not find those, or else we'll have a lot of explaining to do, and she probably won't believe us."

Ed grimaced. "I know. Hopefully they'll all fit under my mattress." He paused, and then slowly turned to his brother. "Peter?"

"Yes?"

"I _am_ changed. I want you to know, no matter what, that I can't forget what happened. It was too real, too amazing to forget. And He…"

Peter looked at Edmund and smiled. "He won't ever leave our thoughts. I promise you, Ed, that He will never leave our thoughts. No matter how much of a dream it seems, no matter how faded or muddled the memories get, we will remember."

Edmund nodded in agreement. "And we will _know_," he said with certainty. "Yes, we _will know_."

It was the certain knowledge of being fully known, even when you yourself cannot fully know.


	4. Lucy

_You were called to the one hope that belongs to your call…_

_**Ephesians 4:4b**_

Lucy Pevensie, age eight, sighed as she watched her older sister slam the back door and sit on the other side of the only tree in the backyard. It looked as if Susan had been crying, though Lucy couldn't really blame her. It was hard to be back.

Susan was sad about Narnia, Lucy knew. For Lucy, though, it was harder to come back to Finchley from the Professor's than to come back from Narnia. Aslan always did what He felt best, and apparently best for the Pevensies meant England. But out at the country house, where you could at least go and _touch _the wardrobe and see it and smell it and know that something special happened and hope that soon, soon, soon you would be called back… At least at that house there was a presence, a breeze from a distant sea that you could almost feel. Finchley… Finchley was harder.

Lucy sat down at the kitchen table, hearing her mother in the front parlor chatting with one of her friends. There had been some moments over the last few hours when Lucy could tell that Mum was almost about to ask a question but didn't. It would be difficult to ignore the changes that had come over Edmund, the stillness of Peter, Susan being so touchy. And Mum might be the sort of person who could handle the truth and not pass it off as a silly game or a clever lie. But Lucy could see deeper lines on her mother's forehead and hear a grayer sadness in her voice. The summer had been hard on Mum, with Dad gone and her children away. She probably didn't need to be hearing about fauns and river gods and animals that could talk and her children ruling over kingdoms. Maybe someday. But not now.

Lucy got up from the table, picked up her stuffed bear and walked down the hall into her room. Susan must have been tidying up, Lucy thought, because clothes were put away and toys were back on the shelf. Walking over to the bookcase, Lucy pulled down the book about King Arthur and stared at the boy-king, gleaming in silver armor and grasping a long sword on the cover. He really did look an awful lot like Peter, which was probably why when the Professor told her she could choose any book out of his library to take home as a memory she chose that one. Mother had seen it in her bag at the train station and had laughingly asked her if she had chosen it for the pictures, but after the Return (as Ed liked to refer to that day) Avalon had seemed so much more real - not to mention the fact that Lucy in her early twenties had been reading much more difficult literature than "The Legend of King Arthur". Reverting back fifteen years does not mean that you forget what "cajole" or "hauteur" or "clinquant" means, even if you do like carrying around stuffed animals.

The jump from twenty three to eight was not as difficult for Lucy as it was for her siblings. Throughout her teens in Narnia she had held on to her playful, joyful spirit and would probably always be an eight year old at heart. No, being a child again did not really bother her at all. What was hard after the Return for Lucy was watching Susan's reactions to England and coming to the realization that her sister didn't really have much hope left for a Return back. When they first were back in England, Lucy had insisted on sleeping in Susan's room, just in case Aslan called them back – they could get to Narnia faster together, she thought. But at night, when everyone else was asleep, Lucy could sometimes hear her sister crying herself to sleep. And Susan wouldn't talk about it. Whenever Lucy would bring up the topic of Narnia, Susan would laugh and say it was a wonderful memory, or turn away and pretend not to hear. That was worst of all. Pretending it never happened.

Ignoring the truth was always the worst.

Because it did happen. It was true. Staring down at King Arthur, Lucy could feel the weight of a crown forged by the dwarves on her head and hear the laughter of the dryads as they danced through the woods. Being a queen, even if only for fifteen years that had passed by like nothing at all, was a part of who she was. And now it was up to her to make sure that she never forgot the look in Aslan's eyes as the crown was placed upon her head.

Lucy placed King Arthur gently back on the shelf and sat down on the floor, cradling her bear in her arms. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the roar of a Lion, almost feel the softness of His mane. Aslan was not so far away, even in London. Peter and Edmund could sense Him too, she thought, and if Susan _tried_ a little maybe… But Susan didn't want to try, not on the outside at least. So Lucy would just have to keep doing all she could to encourage her sister that there was still hope.

It would be harder when Peter and Susan and Edmund left for school and she and Mum would have to go and stay at Aunt Agatha's house. It had been ages since she was apart from her siblings. Peter and Ed promised to write volumes of letters, and even Susan had whispered one night that she would send Lucy stories in the mail about her classes. But Lucy figured that she was going to be doing a lot of thinking when her best friends were gone. The Professor had suggested that she write out all of their Narnian adventures, and had given her a little blank book in which to do so. Right now that book was hidden inside her pillowcase. Mum promised that Aunt Agatha had lots of trees around her house and a pond to go fishing and a pet cat. So maybe this would be another new adventure. Probably not the same kind of adventure as Narnia, but an adventure none-the-less.

Lucy got up, set her bear onto her bed, and decided to go outside to check on Susan. Her sister was still sitting beneath the elm tree, staring up at the leaves that were just starting to turn gold in the late August sun. Lucy leaned up against the trunk, feeling the bark beneath her fingers, knowing that this tree was not one that would turn into a laughing young girl.

"Lu?" asked Susan quietly.

"Yes?"

"Are you…" Susan hesitated. "Are you doing alright?"

"It can be hard sometimes," whispered Lucy as she knelt down next to her sister. "I miss them."

"Me too."

"And you are going to be going away soon. And the boys. And Mum doesn't know…" Lucy trailed off.

Susan looked down at the grass, then up at the sky. "Lu… I'm sorry."

Lucy smiled at her sister. "It's alright. I just have to keep reminding myself that He knows where we are. And He told us who we are. He promised us always."

Susan laughed a little. "Always seems really far away right now."

Lucy held onto one of Susan's hands.

"Always is right here too. Remember that."

"I'll try," sighed Susan. "It's hard."

"I know," said Lucy. "But I'm here. And I'll help you remember."

And somehow, magically, the sisters heard the distant song of a faun's reed pipe echoing through the summer breeze.


End file.
